Need
by boredsvunut
Summary: What happened after the end of Loss. Something short written solely to break a writer's block. Done in Elliot's POV.


(Disclaimer: Law & Order: SVU belongs to that brilliant man, Dick Wolf and the big company called NBC. If they were mine, I would be on a beach right now, instead of in the middle of a messy Atlantic Canadian winter.)

(Summary: What happened after the end of 'Loss'. Something short I wrote to break a writer's block. Done in Elliot's POV.)

She's still standing there, watching nothing. The glow of the taillights have long since faded. I think she's still too numb to move. "Liv?" I gently touch her shoulder, to get her attention.

She glances at me. There's shock in her eyes. We thought Alex was dead. That's what we'd been told. Plus, it was all over this morning's papers. I'm sure I'm wearing the same look she is, right now.

She's shaking and quivering under my hand. Her eyes are shining with tears and red-rimmed. I don't think she's slept a minute since Alex was shot outside that bar. And earlier today, when we first saw the papers, she disappeared into the bathroom and didn't come out for half an hour. Munch was bugging me to go after her. But I didn't.

She bites her lip - trying to get herself together. She's trying to keep her strong, hardass facade. God, I hate it when she does this. She's a strong woman, but sometimes, I wish she'd let me help her through some of this stuff, instead of just bottling it all up. It makes me feel like she doesn't trust me.

"Olivia." I try to get her to move. It's cold out here. But she stays put. A sob racks her body and a tear rolls down her cheek. She wraps her arms around herself and sobs again, ignoring me.

"Liv, c'mere." I reach for her, making her face me. Another sob rips through her, this one louder - she's not trying to stifle the sound. She clings to me, fiercely, her strong hands gripping fistfuls of my coat, her face buried in my neck. I can feel her shaking with more sobs, as she cries.

"C'mere." I'm startled to see her have a break down like this. I only remember something like this happening, once, when she poured her heart out to me, while sitting on my doorstep. But she didn't start sobbing and crying - she wasn't like this. She lets me guide her over to the car we came in and I sit on the ground, pulling her down beside me. I never realized the bond that existed between my partner and our stubborn ADA. I did hear the occasional rumor about them being involved in other ways, but I didn't believe them.

I think they were just two women in highly competitive, male-dominated fields and they bonded over that. She hides her face in my shoulder, still clinging to me for all she's worth. "Hey." I rub my hand over the brown leather covering her back. "Stop it with the damned waterworks."

She raises her head, sniffs and glares at me. Finally, something that I know how to respond to. "She's alive, Liv."

"If we hadn't pushed this case. If we hadn't fought to work it . . . " Her voice is choked with tears.

Then it hits me. She's blaming herself, because we fought to work the case from the beginning. If we'd left it to the DEA, Alex would have never gotten involved. "Olivia - Alex made her decisions. She didn't have to"-

"Elliot, once she got involved, there was no way in hell anyone was stopping her." Olivia buries her face in my shoulder again. "Even you know that. We shouldn't have pushed it."

"Livia was a cop." I remind her, softly. "One of ours."

"The DEA would have investigated." She protests. "We should have just left it alone."

"She was a cop. She was NYPD. A part of the family. Any self-respecting cop wouldn't let her murder go to the Feds. You know that."

"That night, when Donovan was killed, you know, it could have been any of us? What if they'd planted that bomb in _our _car?"

"Liv. . . . "

She shakes her head, her face still hidden in my shoulder. "You got a wife and kids. Nobody's gonna miss me. There's nobody here to miss me."

"What the hell is _that _supposed to mean?" I demand, startled.

"Velez is still out there." She murmurs.

"And I'm not walking around looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. Zapata's dead. I don't think his boss is gonna touch us. But tell me something - you say nobody's gonna miss you. What about me?"

She buries her face in my neck. I can feel her breath against my skin. "You might miss me, yeah, but who the hell am I to you?"

"One of my best friends." I reply.

She scoffs, at that.

"No. Really."

"You know, you're my fourth partner in seventeen years on the job." She comments, softly, sniffing and wiping her eyes. "You've got a wife and kids. Who the hell am I to you?"

"_Olivia_. . . . " She's not listening. Somehow I can always tell, when she's tuning me out. Maybe it's because I've got kids. Who knows? "You're important. Don't think I wouldn't miss you, if you weren't here."

This is a very weird position for us to be in. Sitting on gravel, leaning against the side of the car, with my arm around her shoulders. But maybe she'll open up. "Will you listen to me, damn it!"

Then I catch the underlying meaning in her earlier words. _You got a wife and kids. Nobody's gonna miss me. There's nobody here to miss me. _She knows that she's like my right arm. She's not doubting the fact that she's important to me. She's blaming herself for Alex being dragged into Witness Protection and for putting me at risk.

Her comment about Donovan and the car bomb - I had that same thought. That it could have been any of us. All he did was turn the ignition in his car. I was just about to do that when the explosion rocked the street.

"Olivia, this wasn't your fault." She has this guilt complex, as a shrink might call it. She brings everything down on herself. No one else is ever to blame but her. Everything's always her fault. "We all knew what we were doing, tangling with Colombian drug cartels."

She shakes her head. "El"-

"_Stop it. _You've got this thing with blaming yourself for every little screw-up. And it's stupid. Alex, Donovan - they both knew what risks they were taking. Hell, Donovan probably saw crap like that, every day."

"We should have"-

"We should have _what_? Made Branch pull Alex off the case? Trust me, Liv - nothing Velez could do would equal what Alex would have done, if we'd gone over her head. And we didn't have the authority to do that, anyway, I don't think. She's a lot like you."

"Was." Olivia hugs her knees up close.

"She's alive."

"But she's not Alex Cabot. Alex Cabot's officially dead, remember?"

I sigh, quietly. "I know. But at least she's safe."

"You heard Donovan, when she was first threatened. Velez has a network in the Federal prisons. He's gonna keep looking for her. Besides his guys in the prisons, who knows how many other errand boys he's got. Zapata was one of them."

"The Marshals will give her a new name and a new identity - Velez will probably think she's dead and give up."

"I can't help but think. . . . If I'd"-

"Liv." I've been keeping my frustration out of my voice, till now. "Whatever happened _wasn't your fault_. When the hell will you get that through your damned head? Sometimes, shit happens and you can't stop it, as much as you seem to be convinced that you can. I don't know what the hell your mother did to you, but she gave you one hell of a guilt complex."

"Who says it was her?"

"I met Serena, remember? She probably put you through some crap, as a kid."

She shakes her head. "You don't know the half of it."

"Fine. C'mon. I'll take you home." I get up, first and help her to her feet. Her makeup's a mess, all down her face. I decide not to say anything, because I don't have anything for her to clean herself up with.

She stretches up and kisses me, softly, on the cheek. It's just a friendly little gesture and she looks embarrassed to have done that. She whispers a thank-you, her voice thick and a little hoarse, then steps around to the side of the car.

We drive in silence, for most of the ride back to her place. "Do you need anything from the house?" I question, stuck in traffic.

Olivia shakes her head. "Tomorrow's gonna be hard." She comments, quietly.

Tomorrow. Alex's 'funeral.' Damn. She's right. It is gonna be hard.

"How the hell can you bury someone that you know isn't dead?" She asks.

I sigh, unable to give her an answer. "Like Hammond said - she's better off dead, than here, where Velez can find her."

She nods, silently, then glances at herself in the rearview mirror. "Crap." She mutters.

"I'd give you something to clean yourself up, but I don't even have a tissue."

She sits there, silent, for the rest of the ride. I walk her upstairs, then take the stairs back down and out to the car. I warily turn the ignition and pull away from the curb.

I'm a little under halfway home, when some nagging little instinct tells me to turn back. There's no one else who can get to Olivia, right now. No one else to help her.

I call Kathy on my cell and apologize, tell her that Liv's taking it really hard and I don't know when I'll be home. My wife at home sighs - she's used to these kinds of calls - and says she'll see me when I show up on the doorstep. The kids are long in bed. The only one still up is Maureen. So I talk with my oldest, then end the call, as I cut the engine outside of Olivia's building.

I slip inside the security door, behind another tenant who recognizes me. I know if I buzzed her, right now, she wouldn't answer.

I feel around in my pocket and come out with my key chain. Car key, house key, locker key, key to the back door of the house - key to Liv's apartment. She gave this to me a long time ago, after our first couple of years working together. Just for an emergency. I've been tempted to use it before, but I haven't.

I let myself into her apartment. It's dark, with the occasional lighter shadow thrown across the floor by the glow of a streetlight. "Liv?" Where the hell is she? There's no water running - she's not in the shower. "Olivia - it's me."

I step further into the living room and turn a left down the hall. She's not in the bathroom - it's dark, with the door wide open. "Liv, it's just me." I stop, hearing a sound. She's here. In her bedroom. Crying. Damn it. It's a good thing I did double back.

I approach her bedroom and knock softly on the half-open door. No response. "Liv?" Again, silence. She knows I'm here. She doesn't want to talk to me.

I walk in and find her lying in bed, the yellow-orange glow of the streetlight outside her window falling across the room, breaking the darkness. And she's still crying. She's lying there, face buried in a pillow.

I step across the floor and accidentally kick something. I bite back a curse and she sits up, instantly, reaching to the right of her bed. "Liv. It's only me." I know what she's reaching for and I don't want to be on the receiving end of it.

She fumbles around and turns on the bedside lamp. "What the hell are you doing here?" She demands.

"I came back to check on you." I reply.

She sits there, in bed, dressed in sweats and a tank top, the sheets and comforter a tangled mess around her feet. "Go home." She retorts, brushing her hair back off her forehead.

"No. You're not gonna sleep tonight. I'm not gonna let you do this alone." I sit at the edge of her bed and shed my overcoat and jacket.

She draws her legs up. "Her face, El"- Olivia bites her lip. "That was the first time I'd seen her scared."

"Shh." I reach for her, pulling her close. She's never been this emotional, before. But this case has been tough on us all, because we lost one of our own. Alex wasn't a cop, but she was one of ours, anyway. "Shh-ssh-shh-ssh-shh-ssh-shh-ssh." I hold her and she clings to me, the same way she did out in that lot, where Hammond asked us to meet him, crying again.

I know I can't comfort her, so I hold her, whispering the occasional word or two, as she cries into my shoulder. Eventually, she cries herself out and looks at me. "You know, you can go home."

"No. I'm not leaving you alone." I answer her, stubbornly. "Not now."

Olivia shakes her head and pulls back. I let her lay down and tuck her in, the way I used to, with my kids, out of habit. "So that's what the fuss is about. Huh. Now I get it." She comments.

"What? No one ever tucked you into bed, when you were a kid?"

"No." She glances up at me. "You said so yourself - you met my mother. You know what she was like."

I shift myself to sit beside her, on the bed. "You know, you can go make up the couch." Olivia murmurs, huddled into the covers.

"Later." I brush her hair back from her face and gently rub my thumb over her cheek. Right now, I want to make sure she gets some sleep. She murmurs, softly and turns her face toward me. She's asleep. She's just simply worn out. There's no other way to describe it.

I run my fingers down her face, from her temple and down her cheek. She mutters and sighs. Her eyelids flicker and I freeze, afraid I woke her. She doesn't show any signs of waking up, so I lean in and place a kiss on her cheek, softly. "'Night, Liv." I whisper, as she turns away from me. She offered me her couch, but I won't sleep tonight. Not while she needs me.


End file.
